


always on and off

by 1000_directions



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Relationship Status: It's Complicated, Tactical Corsets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 01:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17234705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: She was Natalie then, and she’s Natasha now, but she’s always just been Nat to Liam.





	always on and off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mildly_Maddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildly_Maddy/gifts).



> #ship 1d with superheroes 2kFOREVER

_I’m in town_.

The text arrives just after ten at night from a number Liam doesn’t recognise, but he knows it’s Nat. It’s always Nat. She doesn’t say she’s on her way over, but he knows that, too. She never asks if he’s home, if he’s busy, if he even wants to see her. She knows him, and he knows her. Or at least he knows parts of her. The parts she lets him know, maybe. Fuck it, it’s just good to have confirmation that she’s alive; he hasn’t heard from her in ages.

He probably doesn’t have much time before she comes over, so he showers quickly and touches up his beard. He leaves a towel tied around his waist; no point putting in the effort to get dressed for her.

She arrives at half eleven. He’s sat on the bed, waiting for her and trying to pretend that he’s not. There’s just a light scratching sound at the window to alert him, and then she’s lifting the sash and letting herself in. There is a liquid quality to the way Nat enters through a window, first one leg trickling in, then an undulation of her upper body, then the other leg as she shakes out her hair to look at him. She’s blonde now. That’s new. She looks tired and lovely and closed-off, and something inside him aches at the sight of her.

He’s missed her.

“Presumptuous,” she says, nodding at the towel around his waist and arching one slender eyebrow. Liam shrugs.

“What, did you want to talk? Ask me how my day was?”

“Touché.” She takes off her leather jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair, and he falls back onto his elbows and doesn’t try to pretend he isn’t watching her. That’s how they are. No greetings, no small talk. Not much need for formality with someone who lets herself in through a window and immediately starts taking off her kit.

The first time they met, she was _Natalie_. He and Tommo were doing an appearance at Stark Tower for some kids’ charity, and she was the one who stopped them at the end of the tour to inform them that she was Mr. Stark’s assistant, and unfortunately he had been called off for an urgent matter and would be unable to join them. Louis grumbled about it and fucked off to the giftshop to get Iron Man souvenirs for all his sisters, and Liam hung back to ask Natalie where the loo was. She was beautiful in a way that didn’t seem real. He liked her focused eyes and her low voice, he liked the way she blinked at him before offering to escort him to the restroom. And she followed him inside, locked the door behind them, and stood a respectful distance away from him as she asked if he could be discreet, if he wanted to help her blow off some steam, if he was intimidated by powerful women. And he stammered out, “Yes, ma’am...I mean, no, ma’am...I mean--” before she backed him up against the wall and kissed him, purposeful and wicked and completely in control.

She was Natalie then, and she’s Natasha now, but she’s always just been Nat to him. He knows it’s more complicated than that. She’s the Black Widow, for god’s sake. She’s an Avenger. Or she was, anyway, before the accords, and now she and Captain America and all the rest of them are fugitives. And he knows, okay, he _knows_ it’s bloody stupid to let her come here. He knows he’s supposed to report her to the World Security Council. But she’s _Nat_. He’d never turn on her, and she knows that, and he reckons that’s why she keeps coming back. Why she chose him when she could have chosen anyone.

He watches her now, sitting down in a chair to unzip her boots and leave them neatly by the window. She’s wearing thick black socks, and one of them is worn away at the heel, and he can see her skin showing through. She pulls off her socks and tucks them inside her boots, and then she stands up.

“Unzip me?” she asks, turning her back to him, and he walks over to her and undoes the zipper that holds her into her tactical...corset. And he wonders who’s been helping her in and out of her clothing all these nights that she’s been off somewhere else. Maybe no one. Nat doesn’t seem like she’d let herself be beholden to anyone. Maybe she just wanted Liam to feel included.

She lets her top fall to the ground, and then she backs up into his body, grinds her arse against his dick, and even through his towel and her leggings, he feels the warmth of her. She tilts her head to the side and pushes her hair away, exposing her neck for him, and for a moment, he feels frozen in place.

“Come on,” she says teasingly. “Didn’t you miss me at all?”

“You know I did,” he says hoarsely, and he grips her waist with his hands and pulls her body tight against his, burying his face in the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and letting himself taste her skin. She’s tiny in his hands. He always forgets how small she is, how she feels dainty and breakable in his grasp even though she is neither of those things.

“Say it like you mean it,” she says, swiveling her hips in his grasp. He’s holding her, but she’s in control, and they both know it.

“I want you,” he confesses, breathing the words into the thin skin of her neck, and she pauses for a moment, and then she spins around in his arms so they’re face to face.

“I’ve got some good news for you,” she says coyly as she walks him backwards. She pushes lightly on his chest, and he falls backwards onto the bed.

“What’s that?”

“You,” she says, removing the towel from around his waist with a flourish, “can have me.”

“Can I?” What does it mean, having her? Does it mean this, just these unexpected meet-ups scattered across years and continents? Does it ever mean anything more?

“Sure you can,” she says, wriggling out of her leggings and knickers, letting them fall to the floor as she climbs onto the bed and settles herself in his lap. One of her knees has a yellowing bruise on it, and there’s a scar across her abdomen that he never asks about. “I mean, you’ll have to work for it, but you can have me.”

“I’ll work for it,” he says, running his hands over the smooth, sleek lines of her thighs. He feels the muscles of her legs, all the power of her coiled up just beneath the surface. She rolls off of him and scoots up to the head of the bed, reclining against his pillows with her legs slightly splayed.

“Then get to work,” she says, and the words are a command, but she says them like a question. Like she’s not sure that he’s still hers after all this time. She never asks for reassurance, not directly, but sometimes, he knows that she needs it.

“Cheers,” he says softly. But first, he wraps his hand around her calf, and he kisses the rough heel of her foot and the translucent skin of her arch, and he mouths over her delicate ankle bones. And she wiggles her toes and doesn’t say anything, but when he finishes his ministrations and meets her eyes, she looks settled in a way she didn’t before. So he crawls the rest of the way up the bed and lets himself fall face first between her thighs, breathing in the heady scent of her and losing himself in the task of making her feel good.

“God,” she breathes. Nat’s normally so quiet, so inscrutable, and it drives him to try harder. She crosses her legs behind his shoulders, digging into his back with her heels, pulling him deeper into her. Her thighs are pressing against his ears, and he loves it. “Fuck, you’re so good at that.”

Of course he is. She’s spent years training him to be.

Afterwards, when they’ve both come and she’s lying with her head on his chest, Liam can’t stop touching her hair. He thought that bleaching it might have made it unpleasant and processed, straw-like. But her hair is still so soft between his fingers.

“I like the blonde,” he tells her, and she props up her chin on his chest so he can see her smile.

“Yeah?” There’s a little uncertainty in her eyes. She only ever lets herself be vulnerable around him after she comes. “I’m still not sure. Didn’t know what you’d think.”

“Think you look proper nice,” he says. “Like a supermodel. Like a badass vigilante supermodel.”

“Make a girl blush, why don’t you?” she says. And she’s not actually blushing, but she’s smiling, and that’s better. She pushes up onto her elbows and finds his mouth with hers, kissing him sweet and lazy, like they have all the time in the world.

“I was worried,” he says when she pulls back. “I didn’t hear from you for so long. Thought you might be gone.” He’d been scared to know and scared not to know. Half of everyone disappeared in a blink, and did anyone really want to know for sure that someone you cared about had vanished? Was it better just to hold onto hope that they were out there somewhere?

“I think that would be cheating,” she says with a smirk, but her voice sounds hollow, and her expression grows more serious. “No, I don’t think this world is done chewing me up yet. I think it’s going to be a bit longer before I get to rest.”

“You can rest now,” Liam says, tightening his arms around her, ignoring the question in her eyes. “I know it’s not what you mean, but you could. You could just sleep, if you wanted.”

“Sure I could,” she says softly. “Hey, I’m glad you’re still here. I was worried about you, too.”

“Got nowhere else to be,” he says, and she smiles tiredly and kisses him again.

When he’s sure Nat is sleeping, he sneaks out of bed and uses the light from his phone to rifle through his sock drawer. He finds two pairs of black socks, sturdy and clean, and he tucks them into her boots for her to find later. It’s the least he can do to keep her safe when she’s not here.

Then he lies back down beside her in the bed, and he takes her in his arms, and he sleeps. He knows she’ll be gone by the time he wakes up, but just for now, he lets himself dream.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](http://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/181569236139/always-on-and-off-by-1000directions-for)


End file.
